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Flowers in My Yard
This was born in the wrinkled folds of northern West Virginia. My friend Turk has lived his life in his family’s row house in Owings Holler, a place the company abandoned long ago, returned and strip mined in the 70s, and finally reclaimed a few years ago. I was watching his cancer-wracked neighbor one morning serenely and lovingly tending to her gardens outside her trailer, and once again remembered that Appalachian people have a lot to teach us about perseverance.
AM – lead and harmony vocals, acoustic and electric guitar
Ralph Gordon - cello
N. Scott Robinson – rawhide maracas
Words & music A. McKnight, ©2001 Catalooch Music, BMI
Verse 1
Along the banks of the Big Mon, smokestack sentries arm in arm
the veins ran out and the drugs rushed in, hard times our are constant friend
that pretty bird across the street, monitor manacled to her feet
she won't run she's not got the heart, to quit the cash from the Quicki-Mart
Chorus
River cuts right through our town, you feel it bear down hard,
I still tend the flowers in my yard, I still tend the flowers in my yard
Verse 2
downtown still breathes with the blood, drawn from our immigrant sons
the marquee says it's the heart of town, it's just our favorite bar and lounge
Our veterans rest in neat-laid rows, pray they keep lost miner's souls
Sunday hymns still ring in our ears, but sometimes faith hides in our fears
Chorus
Bridge
The river gives and the flood it takes, our spirit bends but never breaks
sometimes it feels like the ending rope, somehow we keep holding onto hope
Verse 3
The mines still work up north of here, rumor says new jobs next year
we're counting on that Pittsburgh seam, to fuel our fading hopes and dreams
Chorus
